Twelve Red Roses (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

Chapter 29- London

"We should get going once you're finished with that," I point out softly.

He nods, now turning to look at me. "We will. I promise. I'm sorry about this."

I knew he was referring to him working so much.

"It's alright," I insist with a smile. And I meant it. And he knew I meant it.

~

A few days in Maryland went by fairly quickly. I'm starting to consider these days as the Golden Days of our relationship, whatever our relationship may be. We haven't had a fight since, not even a small little argument. We laughed and smiled and kissed freely. We no longer felt the need to purchase two different hotel rooms. And we learned how to properly hide from the public by staying in smaller parts of town, and Tom always wearing his sunglasses.

"We should go camping," he decides one evening.

I laugh. I can't imagine Tom camping. He's too graceful to be carrying firewood around, too gentleman-like to have to use those gross public portable toilets.

"I don't think so. We should just stay within our fancy little hotels."

He smiles, then drops that idea.

He brings up another question then, one just as ridiculous. I watch as he moves his hands around to elaborate the idea. I rather liked that about him. He could hardly keep his long, graceful limbs still. He was always looking around, tapping his fingers or bouncing his knee up and down. He liked to stay active and moving.

And I was just the opposite in a way. I liked moving around, but I also didn't mind having to sit still.

I just nod to him, hardly listening to what he was saying, and he grins. He already knows I was hardly listening. He leans in then, across the small café table we were at and kisses me, his large, warm hands abandoning his tea for just a moment.

And for a small moment, everything seemed magical again. I felt hopeful and desired. I felt like I could do anything I wanted, as though his kisses were fuel to my achievements. It all felt perfect and cliche, like some sort of chick flick.

We pull away, and just smile at each other in a star struck matter. Just months ago I was disgusted when I saw people in cafés doing things such as this, but now here I am, doing it.

"I wish we did this in Autumn," I say softly, almost to myself. His thumb was gently running over my lower lip now.

"Why?"

I shrug. "I just like Autumn better. Everything seems more rustic with the brown leaves, and it's cold, but not too cold. You can wear comfy sweaters and get coffee and stuff."

He smiles. "But it's summer. We can swim and get ice cream and wear shorts. It's always sunny."

I smile back, watching his blue eyes light up as he talked. The way he explained summer made me think of him. He was 'sunny' because he was always bright and cheerful. He loves swimming, and he loves sweets. He made summer sound better than I actually was.

"Yeah, I suppose summer isn't too bad, then." I take his warm hands by the wrists, removing them from my cheeks and holding them on the table top. Summer was fun, but it was also often too hot for physical contact. Not that I'm a fan of physical contact, but Tom is. So I always have to live with warm hugs and cuddling and holding hands in hot weather.

"Let's go to a movie," he decides suddenly, smiling. "We've never gone to the movies as a date."

"You're right," I answer thoughtfully. I watch our hands play for a bit, never really staying still for even a moment. "When, then?"